


Protect Our Own

by Listentothelittlebird



Series: Code Bat [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Code Bat, Fix-It, Gen, Jason Todd is a good brother, Jason isn’t completely mental, Not Canon Compliant, Tim gets beaten up but there’s a difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listentothelittlebird/pseuds/Listentothelittlebird
Summary: There’s a note addressed to Tim - addressed to R; to Robin.(Jason is between a rock and a hard place, but he knows how to play his cards right. Talia’s not learning anything, not on his watch.)
Relationships: Bart Allen & Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent & Cassie Sandsmark, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Code Bat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964452
Comments: 34
Kudos: 673





	Protect Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> In canon, Jason beats up Tim because he’s Pit-Mad and angry at Tim for “taking his place”. What if Jason wasn’t recognised as Jason Todd, much less the myth-shrouded Robin? What if Jason managed to dig for information himself instead of being fed specific bites of news?
> 
> What if the League set their sights on one unnamed teenage vigilante, with curious and slightly-murderous intent?

There was a note addressed to Tim. Or, well, not _Tim_ Tim, but… _Robin_ Tim.

Which was concerning in its own right, because that meant someone out there knew that Robin existed - and knew that Robin was him.

Batman had scanned the note and accompanying envelope for extra clues, had tried to dig into where the envelope had come from, but there was nothing. Whoever this was, whoever had sent this to them, had covered their tracks well.

The note had a specific date, and a specific hour. 

It also stated, “ _Don’t activate the Code, R. Don’t give them what they want._ ” 

The handwriting was cursive but messy, coherent but shaky. It was not written in a hurry, but the hand was unpracticed.

The note was signed off with “JT”.

Tim, Bruce and Dick all checked their schedules, what they were planning to do at the designated time. Bruce was going to be in a WE meeting. Dick was working.

Tim was scheduled to be at Titans tower.

“This is a trap,” Bruce announced, his lips pursed tightly together. Dick was wearing a similar look, his brow pinched as he considered the note a second time, “Yeah, I don’t like this, either.”

Tim blinked down at the note, the gears in his mind whirring. He thought his brain was crazy, sometimes, the gears wobbly or unhinged, but they were the same gears that had made the connection between Bruce Wayne and Batman, so they had to be at least somewhat trustworthy.

He still kept his quiet considerations to himself - the way that the handwriting was all too familiar, reminding him of the only other person who could possibly have sent this, could possibly know enough to send the note here, to the Manor, instead of to Titans tower.

“I won’t stay home,” Tim announced, and barreled on when he saw both of his family members about to protest, “No, I won’t. Kon will be there - Bart and Cassie, too. If anything, I’d be safer there than here, if someone came for me.”

“They’re expecting you,” Dick protested weakly, having already met his brother’s eyes and seen their stubborn glint.

“If I drag this out, whoever sent the warning risks getting discovered,” Tim reasoned, “We have to go on as per normal, and let it play out.”

Bruce released a sharp breath, and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“Keeping Code Bat a secret is not everything,” Bruce reminded him sternly, “If anything gets out of hand, call us.”

~

On the day itself, Tim found another note in his room.

The batarang that he stored in his closet lay on top of the note. Whoever this was knew about the hidden compartment - the same kind that Dick had, Tim knew, because he had designed his room after Nightwing’s.

_Don’t call him. Trust me._

_JT_

There was a lighter on the desk, too. Tim burnt the note, hid his batarang, and left his room.

He almost did not realise the ambush had begun.

Tim quickly realised that his teammates were not responding to their comms. He realised that this was not because of their comms being down - there was still reception. If he wanted to, he could still activate Code Bat. His hand hovered over the emergency switch.

_Don’t give them what they want._

He retracted his hand. 

~

“Who are you?” Kon hissed, already feeling the effects of whatever drug had been injected into him. How did this man get Kryptonite? He had already kept it away, and Kon’s strength was returning, but too slowly to be of use. He struggled to hold onto consciousness, and he knew he was slipping.

The man loomed over his prone form, leaning right next to his ear. When he spoke, it was at a tone that only Kon’s super-hearing ears could pick up:

“I’m the Red Hood, Superkid. Remember that.”

~

Tim stood in the middle of the largest room in the building, the commons room. Even he had trouble sneaking around the sides - whoever this was would have to reveal themselves.

There was a purposeful thud from behind him. Tim flexed his fingers around his bo staff, and swirled to meet the blade of a sword.

Green-blue eyes stared at him, a white lock of hair curled on the man’s forehead. He was _huge_ , and he was wearing a ninja outfit, black scarf pulled up over his nose. It was a League of Assassins uniform.

They quickly descended into rapid fighting, exchanging blow after blow. Tim… he knew. He knew, quietly, that the man fought like Batman. Not just that, he realised as his opponent flipped over his staff with ease.

The man also fought like Dick. Like a grown Robin.

Tim was a good fighter, but the man was faster, and more experienced. Tim slipped, once, and he was pinned. A gloved hand covered his mouth, but he found he was still able to breathe.

With his free hand, the man pulled down his scarf. Tim’s surprised gasp was muffled, too quiet to be heard.

“Not so tough now, are ya?” the man sneered, and Tim’s eyes were wide under his domino. His accent was less prominent than it was years ago, the pitch a deep drawl, but Tim had spent his nights on rooftops hearing that same voice. 

Jason Todd shifted slightly, and Tim caught a glint of metal in the scarf’s cloth. A recording device. They were being watched.

“We don’t know your name, we don’t know who you are, and we don’t know where you came from,” Jason growled, finally removing the hand from Tim’s mouth to pull him up by the collar, “Care to enlighten us?”

The pieces clicked together.

The League of Assassins wanted information. 

They wanted his mentor to come running - they wanted something like Code Bat to come to light. 

Tim looked into Jason’s eyes, the new sheen of green not enough to hide the glint of blue, openly apologetic underneath the shadowy hood. _Play along_ , Jason mouthed.

Tim steeled himself. “I’d like to see you try,” Tim bit back, adding an amused huff for good measure, “You won’t learn anything.”

Jason threw him back down to the ground, and _ow_ , that hurt. Jason paused minutely, but carried on before long. “You won’t be saying that when I’m done with you,” Jason muttered darkly, cracking his knuckles.

Tim knew they had to do this for the act - knew that Jason was hitting spots that hurt, but would not lead to major injury - but it was still a beating, and it still hurt.

The beating stopped, eventually, and Tim had yet to even groan. He celebrated that fact in his head, even while he lay limp as Jason’s presence left his side - because of course his footsteps were too quiet to hear.

Then Kon was rushing in, and speeding him to the medbay.

“Al,” Kon hissed, exasperated as he pushed Tim back down onto the bed, “A-D, stop! You have to rest. You’re really badly injured.”

“Wher’d he go?” Tim slurred out, sitting back up again and finally glancing around the room to see all his teammates. Bart looked drowsy, and Cassie had hair sticking to her face with drool, but they were fine. 

Kon fumbled with something on the medbay desk, cursing as a plastic cup slipped from his fingers and toppled unceremoniously to the floor. Sedated. They had been sedated.

“Red Hood?” Kon spat, “He’s gone. I don’t know where he went, but when I get my hands on him-“

“Hey,” Cassie rested a hand on Kon’s arm, “Revenge later. We have to take care of Alvin, first.”

Later, when Dick and Bruce asked, Tim would say that his comms were down.

Later, back in Gotham when they investigated a duffel bag of heads, when Tim realised that they were just well-crafted synthetic fakes of heads, made to decompose like the real deal - he would tell them about his suspicions.

“He’s trying to make everyone think he’s the villain,” Tim frowned, “But he’s actually helping us.”

The note meant that whoever was hearing Tim’s beatdown - Ra’s, Talia, any of them - did not discover his relations to Batman. The duffel bag of heads had scared away rising drug dealers, and the remaining drug lords were being taken out by an anonymous newcomer.

The anonymous newcomer then handed power over to one of their subordinates. Someone who, for all the Bats could tell, was keeping a tight hold on their power so that they could operate right, and operate well.

One week had passed with the subordinate in power. Overdoses had dropped drastically. Cases with kids peddling drugs and underaged use were falling.

Meanwhile, the Joker had broken out of Arkham.

Robin and Nightwing dropped in on the Joker’s location together, and both immediately reeled at the sight.

The Joker was alive, but beaten to a pulp. There was a bloodied crowbar beside him.

Nightwing relayed the scene to Batman through the comms, his voice wavering the slightest bit. “I’ll look around the neighbourhood,” Robin announced, already climbing back towards the roof, “Whoever did this couldn’t have gotten far.”

He only needed to jump three rooftops before he felt someone tailing him.

Tim waited a few more rooftops before he turned to face the new presence. The second Robin strolled out of the shadows, dressed in a zipped-up leather jacket and long pants. 

“Jason,” Tim greeted, just to solidify his theory. Jason cocked his head to the side and grinned lazily. “You’re a smart little bird,” he mused, and Tim’s inner fanboy _preened_.

“Is O able to hear you?” Jason asked, hovering just within the shadows.

“No,” Tim answered, because he had a few tricks up his sleeve. He would only be heard when she wanted to talk to him.

“Good,” Jason nodded, doing a not-so-subtle sweep of Tim’s Gotham uniform. The part of him that was still the young stalker with a camera made him straighten up under the scrutiny. Jason caught the motion and smirked.

“I approve of the addition of pants,” he commented mildly, “And I suppose you’ve healed alright from our first meeting, seeing as you’re not at home being smothered by Agent A and Big Bird.”

Jason’s expression was pinched, and the silent apology was clear enough. Tim smiled at him, and his cocky grin softened into something more genuine.

Tim replayed Jason’s words. Big Bird. Dick.

“They miss you, you know?” Tim blurted. Jason stiffened, and Tim rambled on, “I mean, we all do. I do, too, I know that sounds weird, but-“ Tim clamped his mouth shut, because _I used to stalk you and Batman at night and I have photos of you_ was a declaration for another day.

“But I’m not the same as I was before,” Jason stated hollowly, and scoffed, “Dunno if the B-man would want an almost-drug lord as his son.”

Tim gaped. Thought about how many times Dick had teared up and talked about Jason. Thought about how many times Bruce had peered sadly at portraits displaying Jason. 

“He took in an idiot neighbour kid who followed him around with a camera and refused to leave him alone on patrols,” Tim ranted, before his mouth caught up with his brain, “He wanted to build a case for your uniform, the only thing that stopped him was the possibility of his Leaguers seeing it. He- he loves you, darn it!”

Jason was still, and quiet. His gaze had drifted, lost in his own thoughts and conflicts, if the twist to his lips was anything to go by.

“R, we’re coming to your location. We’re going to head back to the Batcave - B thinks he’s found something,” Nightwing’s voice trailed into Tim’s ear.

Tim answered the comm, head turned slightly to the side, and when he turned back, Jason was gone. Tim sighed roughly through his nose.

It took a few more days before Bruce called up the graveyard to check Jason’s grave. 

The coffin was empty.

By then, Jason Todd was long gone from Gotham. Instead, a man going by Red Hood had been seen helping Roy Harper out of a prison cell.

~

“I knew,” Tim murmured, having tea with Alfred. Dick had never got into the habit, and Bruce was still mulling over the revelation that Jason was alive. Probably stalking Red Hood’s every movement down in the Batcave, if Tim had to guess.

Alfred simply hummed and took a sip from his own cup of tea.

“They wouldn’t have believed me, anyway,” Tim continued, speaking to the air instead of directly to Alfred, “He… was always a touchy subject. I didn’t want to accidentally open old wounds.”

“They found out by themselves,” Alfred consoled, “They are both detectives too, as you know. It was only a matter of time. You’ve simply had more time to process it.”

Tim stared into his tea. 

“Jason is alive,” Tim spoke aloud, testing the words on his tongue. It felt like hope, like a second chance. 

Jason was miles away, avoiding them, but he was still alive. He could still come home.

Tim looked up at Alfred, and he was smiling - eyes crinkling and lips upturned just slightly. 

“Indeed,” Alfred marvelled, his own tone holding that small tinge of hope and disbelief, “Master Jason is alive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Hehe :3


End file.
